


Saudade

by Talar



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Near Future, Sam Loves HSM, Set 8 Years After Season 2, and dumb, and famous, they're dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:07:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talar/pseuds/Talar
Summary: Every time Peter snuck back into Sam's mind, he felt completely lost. In their almost a decade long friendship, Peter was always his compass and his anchor. It was only natural for the thing between them to bloom into something more than a friendship. Neither of them- or at least, that's what Sam liked to believe- knew that their relationship could end so badly and that fast. The worst thing about this whole I-haven't-seen-or-talked-to-my-ex/best-friend-in-eight-years situation was that Sam has never stopped loving Peter. It was such a shame, sometimes, remembering Peter was now somewhere in LA and wants nothing to do with Sam anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW that was a wild ride. I'm sorry if this fic is kinda OOC, but idk this is as close as I could go with this prompt. Since I'm not yet a fortune teller, I assumed the world in eight years would be similar to the one we have right now, so if anyone from 2026 reads this fic- sorry for being inaccurate!!! +as I had mentioned before, English isn't my first language, so I'll apologize in advance for any grammatical errors throughout the thing. HAVE FUN!!! sorry again lmao

The eight years since American Vandal was canceled were probably the best years in Sam Ecklund's career. A few weeks after the cancelation, an agent named Jessica Finn called him up and offered him a deal, a _big_ deal. He went to a few acting auditions, landed a bunch of small roles in popular TV shows, and most recently, he went on to play a motherfucking _superhero._ On Marvel. Sam was starting to become a real thing, a force in Hollywood to be reckoned with, and honestly? He had everything he ever dreamt of.

This was exactly where he wanted to be.

Once in a while, he'd talk to awkward teens who are just as ambitious and annoying as he was seven years ago, and he'd listen to them talk about how they want to follow his footsteps. He'd smile at them and tell them it's a matter of hard work, when really, for Sam it was mainly luck.

He was lucky enough to meet Peter Maldonado in the summer between fourth and fifth grade. He was lucky enough that Peter was a nosy piece of shit who was always desperate to know stuff about people. He was lucky enough to be pulled into his best friend's attempt to find out who drew the dicks at Hanover High, or who did The Brownout at St. Bernadine. Sam knew perfectly well that none of the things he had accomplished in the last few years wouldn't be there if it wasn't for Peter.

And it was such a shame, sometimes, remembering Peter was now somewhere in LA and wants nothing to do with him anymore.

Every time Peter snuck back into his mind, Sam felt completely lost. In their almost a decade long friendship, Peter was always his compass and his anchor. He led the way for Sam to follow, but knew exactly when and how to make things stop, so Sam wouldn't get too caught up in whatever it is they were doing. It was only natural for the thing between them to bloom into something more than a friendship. Neither of them- or at least, that's what Sam liked to believe- knew that their relationship could end so badly and that fast.

The worst thing about this whole I-haven't-seen-or-talked-to-my-ex/best-friend-in-eight-years situation was that Sam had never stopped loving Peter.

While they weren't talking, Peter was busy having an actual career as a real indie film maker. He won prizes and stuff, and Sam was so fucking proud of him from afar. He knew how much Peter wanted this to be his life. Peter would sometimes tell him, at nights when he couldn't fall asleep, what he wants to do in his very first feature film. He wanted it to be something that will have an impact, something that would be real. He wanted to pour his heart and soul into a movie, to make it be a mirror. Then, he'd say, he'll know he made it.

Peter's real first feature film, however, was about a puppy. Not much of a mirror, but a damn cute puppy. Sam saw that movie in theatre four times, and it still didn't feel like enough, so he bought a CD of it and watched it again and again and again. It wasn't perfect, but it was Peter, so it was more than enough.

He did the exact same thing in each and every one of Peter's films. Peter wouldn't know, so he didn't feel even a bit guilty for stalking his ex-boyfriend's filmography that way.

Those movies were probably the very last option he had to, at least imagine, hearing Peter's thoughts again.

He missed him so fucking much.

It didn't really help his situation when a few months ago rumors about Peter and this camera man from his latest film started spreading around like a disease. Sam hadn't dated anyone since Peter dumped him, it just hadn't felt right, and knowing Peter was ready to move on was devastating. He called Gabi in the middle of the night to cry and complain and cry some more, and she told him it was time for him to move on, too.

He just didn't know how.

Sam sat on his way too-big-for-one-person couch, watching High School Musical again. He was clearly too old to belt out the lyrics to "Bop to the Top", and to an outsider a 25 year old watching a teen movie on his own would look pretty lonely, but he couldn't care less. High School Musical was a classic, and no one could take this little joy of his away.

Just as Sharpay and Ryan started climbing up that golden, glittery ladder, his phone started ringing. The number was unknown, which usually meant he wasn't supposed to pick up, but if someone interrupted his little movie night it's got to be something important.

He picked it up, hesitantly. "Hello?" He asked.

"Sam?"

Sam could feel the air draining from his lungs, his blood freezing along with time. There were so many thoughts crossing his mind in that one little moment, but the main one was, _what the actual fuck._

"Oh my god, Sam, is it High School Musical in the background?" The man in the other end of the line joked awkwardly. "You haven't changed a bit."

"…Yeah," Sam replied eventually, finally noticing his mouth was open with shock. "Hey, Peter."

"Hey," Peter huffed, as if he was releasing a breath he was holding for a while. "How are you?" He asked In a desperate attempt for small talk. If they were years younger, Sam would probably tell him he was lame. They were adults now, though, so Sam just shrugged, forgetting Peter couldn't see him.

"I'm fine. Really, umm, things are… things are good. What about you?"

"Fine, fine. Everything's great."

"Okay." Sam took a long breath. "Not to sound rude, I'm really happy you called, but is there a reason for you calling? I mean, you've, well, kinda ignored me for the last eight years."

"You've stopped calling in the last four, Sam." Peter pointed.

"Yeah, because you ignored me, but it doesn't matter now. Is everything okay?" Sam asked.

"Yes, everything's okay, just… I wrote this thing. A script." He began, and Sam knew him well enough to recognize the distress and anxiety in his supposed to be confident voice. "I wanted to ask if you'd like to, maybe, read for it?"

"You want me to act on your film?" Sam asked, the tips of his ears reddening.

"That's why I called, yeah. It's probably the most personal thing I've wrote, and I thought it would be appropriate to ask you to be in it, and-"

"I'll do it." Sam cut him, immediately regretting this awful decision. Filming a movie with your ex-boyfriend who was once your best friend but now apparently hates your guts for a very legit reason but you're still terribly pining for? Yeah, smartest decision of all times. Fucking idiot. "I mean, send me the thing and I'll audition, I guess."

"No, no, if you want to be in it, it's yours." Peter said nervously. "I can't imagine anyone else doing that part. I'll send you the script, and, like, call me back?"

"Yeah. I will. Bye." Sam told him, hurriedly hanging up. Stupid little shit. Stupid and dumb and impulsive and stupid. Even Peter himself would probably tell him it was a bad idea if he wasn't the one proposing it. That was self destructive, and Sam was fully aware of it, but he could never say no to Peter. Even as Breaking Free was playing in the background, he was still flooded with regret. His phone beeped again, a document sent to him by PM Productions.

His life sucked.

Sam paused the movie, even though it was reaching its end. High School Musical deserved his full attention. He opened the document to the feature Peter was writing, called "Saudade". He didn't even know what that word meant, which, classic Peter.

He took a big breath and started reading.

_FADE IN ON MAIN TITLE, TO BE PRESENTED AS IF TAKEN FROM A DICTIONARY_

_"SAUDADE_

_(in Portuguese folk culture) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent"_

* * *

_"God, Sam, finish up with the gel and let's go, we're late."_

_"But the party don't start 'til we walk in, babe."_

_"Stop quoting Kesha, you jerk, we're really late."_

_"Fine, fine."_

_Sam left the bathroom, still wearing the suit Peter helped him into earlier. His hair was gelled up and he was brighter than the sun. He left a small peck on Peter's lips as he moved over to put on his shoes. Netflix had invited them both to American Vandal's second season premiere, that was supposed to be followed by a party, and they were about to be late because of Sam's weird obsession with his hair. Even though he was grumpy about it, Peter really thought the fact Sam would dump him if it was him or hair products was kind of adorable, but then again, everything about Sam was kind of adorable._

_Ever since they've started dating a year and a half ago, shortly after they were done shooting the first season, Peter felt as if he was constantly walking on a cloud. It was nice, having Sam there all the time, and it made him feel light and floaty and warm, but there was always this dumb voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that clouds are made of gas and that meant he was about to fall and hit the ground any second now._

_Sam didn't ever give him a reason to worry about something being wrong with their relationship. He never even looked at another person, so cheating wasn't possible with him, and whenever Peter worried about it, he'd comb through his hair with his fingers, telling him he loved him and that everything's okay. While Sam was perceived as this funny and easy-going guy, Peter knew better. Peter knew that behind all the jokes and the references and the memes, there was a gigantic heart, with tons of love he was always willing to give._

_Sam was just perfect._

_That was probably_ why _he was so worried. Sam being this perfect wasn't new to him, he was always like this. But now, when they're all grown up and famous, perhaps Sam will find someone that was worth his time. Not that Peter had any problems with himself, other than the regular teenage problems, but it was hard to deny the truth. Peter (and everyone else that has ever walked upon the earth, excluding Gerard Butler) was totally lame in comparison to Sam, and it kept him walking on eggshells._

_But then, whenever he was afraid, Sam seemed to get that and smile at him, calling him a douchebag, which was just as good as an "I love you"._

_And everything was fine again._

_"Babe, is everything okay?" Sam asked him, shaking those thoughts away from his mind._

_"Yeah," he smiled at his boyfriend, offering him a hand. "Let's go."_

_They drove in a comfortable silence, the only sound being One Direction's Take Me Home playing on the stereo. Sam hummed along in the passenger seat, holding Peter's hand and rubbing soft circles on the back of it. "Pete, can I ask you something?" Sam said eventually, his tone light enough for Peter to suspect there was something deadly serious going on._

_"Yeah, sure. What's up?" Peter asked, keeping his eyes on the road, both out of safety and out of being unable to look at Sam's worried expression without wanting to pull over and hug him._

_"Why are we still hiding it? Us, I mean."_

_The million dollar question._

_They've been dating for a year and a half, and no one outside of their close circle of friends (which basically meant Gabi, Dylan, Kevin, Ming, and Chloe) and their own families knew about it. It was a thing they kept hidden from the world, only because of Peter._

_It wasn't that he was in the closet; he officially came out at the beginning of freshman year, when this exchange student (who, completely unrelated to the incident, left a week later) said homophobic stuff in Mrs. Shapiro's class, so Peter flipped and started ranting about that kind of things being completely unacceptable. He was giving a full speech, which one of the students filmed and sent to pretty much everyone on Snapchat. No one gave him a hard time over it, and it was pretty peaceful._

_This was different, though. Coming out was one thing, but admitting you're dating your best friend/co-producer to the entire world and risking your work to be perceived as biased, or, which was worst case scenario, pushed aside to leave space for their relationship was another thing completely._

_Sam stared at Peter's profile as he was waiting for an answer that never came, then he sighed. "Never mind. I get it, we've talked about it a thousand times. But, like, is it just the regular reasons or that, you know, something else is keeping you from doing this?"_

_"Something else like what?"_

_"Like me."_

_There are two things in life that are worth being late to a party that was thrown for you: free food and Sam Ecklund. So Peter pulled over in a gas station, turning his face to his boyfriend._

_"I love you," He said quietly, staring straight into those green eyes of his that made him all jelly inside. "And I love you because of you, Sammy. The only thing stopping me from telling everyone in the universe how much I love you is Vandal, and that's it. Nothing else, especially not you." He tightened his grip on Sam's hand softly, kissing him gently. "I love you."_

_"I love you too, Mr. We're Late." Sam smiled at him, his face full of content._

* * *

It took Sam approximately 12 minutes to formulate a verbal response to the thing he just read.

"What the fuck, Peter?" Was the first thing Sam said when Peter picked up the phone. He wasn't this angry at Peter, or at anyone else, since that time where Peter accused him of being in love with Gabi. His cheeks grew red and hot and he was shaking to his core. He stood up and began pacing around the room. "What the fuck? You're the one who called everything off. I mean, yeah, I've been chasing your dumb ass for four years after you dumped me, but _you're_ the one who dumped _me_ , and now you're coming back all of a sudden with this thing? What gives you the right?"

"Sam, listen-" Peter began, but Sam was unable to stop now.

"Don't know, dude, not really in the mood. I know what I did back then was fucked up, trust me, I know. I've spent eight fucking years swimming in regret because of what I've done to you. And instead of talking to me, like a grown up, you're giving me a script that tells me again why I'm the biggest asshole in the universe. I know I am, but I don't fucking get to relive it again eight years later when you've been avoiding me when I tried to apologize."

"Have you read the script?" Peter asked, much calmer than Sam had expected him to be. "All the way through?"

"No."

"Then _finish_ reading it and call me back. After you're done. Please." Peter said, then hung up.

Confused was an understatement to what Sam felt. The premiere was probably the worst night of his life, one that kept torturing him almost a decade after, and reading about it now just brought him back there when he absolutely didn't want to be there ever again. Was it Peter's way to get back at him for what he'd done? That wasn't like Peter, but people change in eight years. Had Peter become that bad?

He shook his head and went to his kitchen. His mouth was drier than the desert, and he felt like he spent every last drop of energy in his body on his anger attack.

There was exactly one person in the world who could pull him out of his anger, so he called her.

Gabi picked up before the phone even properly rang, which was kinda suspicious but not suspicious enough. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"I fucking hate Peter." He began, and she laughed.

"Gosh, Sammy, it's like we're young again. Is it about the script?" She asked.

"Did you know about this?" Sam asked, his general _what the fuck_ not even a little bit fading.

"Read it all the way through. All the way." She said before hanging up with what sounded like her shit-eating smirk.

Since he was outnumbered, Sam figured out there was only one way to get out of this thing. Sucking the blame up and reading the stupid thing.

* * *

_At the after party, Sam was drunk. Like,_ really _drunk. Mumbling and sitting on the floor laughing while trying not to throw up kind of drunk. Peter didn't notice at first that the glasses in Sam's hands kept changing, one by one, until it was around four too many and Peter forced him to sit down and not move at all. Sam kept telling him, and everyone who could hear them, about the cute horse in the corner of his house. Needless to say, no such horse existed, but Sam kept blabbering about this horse being the most adorable creature in the universe._

_"I'm telling you, Pete," Sam giggled. "I looooove this horse. I love it. I'm going to name it now. I'll call him… George."_

_"Nice name for a horse." Peter commented with a soft smile._

_"No! a better one! His name from now on is Horse. That's his name. God, I'm so smart." Sam grinned, all teeth and dimples._

_"Horse really is a better name for a horse."_

_"I KNOW!"_

_Sam kept telling people around them about Horse as Peter left for a moment to grab him another glass of water. On his way back to Sam, he accidentally bumped into Ming, spilling the whole glass on his shirt._

_"Oh god, Ming, I'm so sorry. I'll bring you a napkin, I'm sorry." Peter rushed back to the bar, getting Ming a few paper towels._

_They started drying the dance floor from the water Peter spilled all over, to prevent anyone slipping over it. "Your boyfriend is drunk," Ming pointed out quietly._

_"I know, that's the reason for the water." Peter shrugged._

_"Then I guess it's not such a good time for him to do interviews. I mean, Vandal's really good, but it won't be considered as good if one of its faces is drunk and talking about horses to Buzzfeed."_

_"Oh fuck." Peter said, rising quickly to his feet. "Sorry again," Peter said and rushed over to Sam's side._

_"…And it's been like, a while, and we're together and happy and- There he is!" Sam said, beaming up at him._

_Peter felt the ground beneath him disappear, his legs wobbling and unable to hold him anymore. He did that. Sam told fucking Buzzfeed about them, and he seems so happy with himself as if he hadn't just done the only thing Peter ever asked him not to. He might've been over reacting, but he could feel his heart shattering._

_Peter had always trusted Sam, but now he wasn't so sure about it anymore._

_He shook his head at Sam and left, rushing outside as if his life depended on leaving the room. Sam followed him, stumbling. "Pete, wait!" He called, but Peter was already outside._

_Sam ran after him, bumping into every second person on the floor, but eventually making it out. "Peter, please, hear me out." He said, and then opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. Instead, Sam was throwing up into a bush._

_"Do you realize what you've done?" Peter asked angrily, his hands clenched in tight fists. "God, Sam, being drunk doesn't mean you're allowed to do the only thing I told you not to. The only damn thing."_

_"I'm sorry," Sam said, staring shamefully at the floor._

_"Here's what we're doing next. I'm driving you home, you're going to get some sleep, eat something, and that's it. For us, that's it."_

_Sam nodded, his eyes tearing up. "Can we have this talk tomorrow?"_

_"Yeah. Let's take you home."_

_The following night was sleepless. Peter was pacing around his room, trying to sort everything he felt. He was betrayed and shattered, and he wanted to just delete everything that happened since the ride to the premiere. Everything was so perfect, but Sam had to drink too much and ruin it. It was all ruined._

_In the morning, Peter broke their relationship off. Sam nodded understandingly at him as he spoke, trying desperately to keep himself balanced, but his silent sobs were pretty hard to miss. Peter was crying, too, but he knew he couldn't keep being with someone who he couldn't trust to keep things safe._

_Three months later, American Vandal was canceled, and Peter didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse. He couldn't stand being in the same room with Sam without wanting to hug and kiss and have him again, and it was driving him mad._

_Time was a merciless bitch, that cared very little about human love. Time didn't heal the wounds in Peter's heart, no matter how hard he tried to let his first love go. He tried dating again; he was in a relationship with Josh, the camera man from his film, but it ended pretty quickly._

_Then, something changed._

_Sam was doing the promotional interviews for his next movie, the one he did with Marvel. Fucking Marvel. Peter knew how badly Sam wanted to be a superhero one day, and his dream came true. That's what he deserved. Peter watched every single one of his interviews, since it was the only way he could hear Sam._

_This time, he was sitting with an interviewer called Sasha, and she asked him a question about Vandal, since apparently, it was eight years since it was canceled._

_"I mean, both Peter and I said it before, we made it pretty clear who drew the dicks." He replied, smiling softly. "We didn't say it directly so we won't do to the person who did it the thing that was done to Dylan."_

_"Speaking of Peter," She began, something in Sam's expression shifting. "Are you two still in touch?"_

_"Not really, but that's life, you know?" He said, sounding nonchalant. Peter recognized his look, though, a heartbroken one, that is full of regret._

_Perhaps Sam loved him, still? After all this time?_

_Peter knew he still loved Sam, which was embarrassing, but he knew he forgave him long ago. The only reason he refused talking to him was that he knew Sam probably hates his overly dramatic ass, but Sam hating him didn't change the feeling of longing. It was worse than longing, actually, it was more like Saudade. The word didn't have a direct translation from Portuguese, but Peter definitely felt it. He missed Sam so much._

_So he started to write._

_He wrote a script, a lousy one, with a bit of help from the one and only Gabi Granger. He wrote about the day they had broken up, and about missing Sam more and more with every day that passed. He wrote how he still loved Sam, because he was Sam. He loved him because of him, and no matter how dumb he is sometimes, Peter knew no one could ever be better. He wrote about how they'd both grown up now, they're both different, but he also wrote about how he knew they could still figure things out. They could try again._

_This time, he'd make it right. Peter would stop being such an asshole and would scream to the entire universe about how much he loved Sam Ecklund. He'd tell everyone he'll ever meet, because Sam was a thing to be proud of. Hiding their relationship in the first place was dumb, and Peter stopped blaming Sam for what he'd done long ago, because he knew he was the one to blame. He hoped that when Sam will read the script, he will accept his apology, and even if he won't, Peter has all the time in the world._

_Time might e a merciless bitch, but if their love survived the last eight years, it can survive everything._

* * *

Sam stared at the PDF file on his phone, his eyes tearing up. Peter loved him and forgave him, even when he couldn’t forgive himself. His hands trembled and it felt as if the world was spinning. It's weird, how people can have the same effect on you even when you haven't heard from them in so long. Sam felt dizzy, almost like he was dreaming it all, and he was dreading the eventual waking up.

It wasn't a dream, though. This was real, and it was better than any kind of outcome he'd dream about. He was shaking as he dialed Peter's new number, wiping away his tears. His thoughts were all over the place, and he knew Peter could sort them all out. When Peter answered, Sam smiled softly to himself. "I read it all," he said, his voice sounding weaker than he intended.

"And?" Peter asked, anticipation in his voice.

"It seems like a great movie. Festivals material."

"Great as in 'I hate you and never want to hear from you again' or great as in you opening the door already because it's cold and you're a slow reader?" Peter's voice was soft and filled with hope and fear.

Sam hung up, rushing toward the door. He didn’t care about wearing pajama pants with yellow ducks scattered all over them, nor about Troy and Gabriela still waiting on the screen. He cared about Peter.

He opened the door to a very frightened but still very beautiful Peter. He looked older, his jaw line even sharper than it was eight years ago, but he was still the very same awkward guy he knew. He was staring at Sam, his eyes shining bright, and even with the awkwardness of meeting again, it felt as if those years apart were just a break.

"Hey, dude," Peter whispered.

"Listen, if we're doing this again, we're doing it from the start." Sam told him seriously, shoving his hands in the small pockets of his pajama pants. "We'll take it slow, okay? Things have changed for both of us, and we have a lot to catch up on. Now come on in, I paused High School Musical's ending because of you."

Peter nodded. "Is this an offer for a movie night? Cause, like, I'm down for High School Musical 2."

"Yeah," Sam smiled at him, a thing he thought he'd never be able to do again. "I think it is."


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways thanks Rachel for reblogging Saudade and making me write another part!!! this fic lives on in my heart. I'll remind you again that English isn't my first language so if I have any kind of mistakes, sorry!!! it was written in like four hours and wasn't betad so. yeah. good luck reading it

_Dylan Maxwell created the group_ "fuck u pete"

_Dylan added_ Grace Maxwell _and you to the group_

**_Dylan Maxwell:_** pete. we need to talk

**_Grace Maxwell:_** he's right that's important be here at 9

_**Dylan Maxwell:**_ thanks for the support babe

**_Grace Maxwell:_ **♡

_Dylan removed you from the group_

\---

When Peter arrived at Dylan and Grace's house, he had no idea what to expect. Sure, it hadn't been the first time they asked him to come over out of the blue to tell him something. First, it was their engagement, then that they wanted Peter as the best man at their wedding, and then seven months ago when Grace got pregnant. It was always something big, but Peter had absolutely no clue what big thing could be coming next. He parked his car in front of their small home, and as soon as he turned the engine off, he could hear Pot barking.

Peter had no clue whether he made a killer or a terrible choice of friends.

He knew Grace would probably punch him if he'd knocked, so he simply entered the house and let Pot jump on him and lick him all over. "Hey," Peter told the gigantic dog as he closed the door behind him. Grace sat on one of the stools near their kitchen island while Dylan stirred something on the stove. Peter smiled to himself. Dylan and Grace were as different as can be from one another, but that was probably why they were the best couple he knew. They grounded each other while letting themselves soar higher than ever. The Maxwells were, literally, relationship goals.

"Pete!" Grace called, waving at him to join her. She tugged a golden lock behind her ear, resting her other hand on her huge seven-months-pregnant-with-twins belly. "I'd hug you, but I'm tired and lazy, so I won't. Sorry."

Peter sat on the stool next to hers. "So, what's the important thing we have to talk about?" he asked as Dylan turned from the stove to face them.

"I've been thinking," Dylan began.

"Which is an improvement," Grace added playfully and Dylan pouted at her.

"True. But, I've been thinking that you're procrastinating it for way too long, dude." He concluded.

"Procrastinating what, exactly?"

Grace rolled her eyes and shoved him. "Your proposal, dumbass. You and Dylan bought your rings together, and somehow I'm two months away from being a mother and Sammy doesn't even know about his yet. That's lame, man."

" _Super_ lame." Dylan agreed.

"And we don't get it!" she continued. "He'll clearly say yes, you know he will. I mean, he took you back after your eight-year break, why wouldn't he marry you?"

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. He knew that Sam loves him and that it's been almost two years since he's bought the ring, that now sits uselessly at the bottom of his bedside drawer. But still, something bugged him. Getting married is a _huge_ deal. What if it was something Sam wasn't ready for yet? He'd let Sam down once, and on that one night four years ago when Sam agreed to forgive him, he swore to himself he'll never let him down again. So, rationally, he decided to wait until Sam brought the "getting married" issue up. Only he never did, so Peter never proposed. He'd tried so hard to not overthink it.

Obviously, he couldn't talk to Grace and Dylan about it all, so he chose to simply shrug. "I don't know. It's not the right time yet."

"Bullshit." They exclaimed at the same time. Dylan turned back at the stove.

"Babe, can you taste the sauce? I think it sucks." He asked her and she slowly rose from her stool, leaning on Peter for support. "Anyways, Pete, just ask your boy. You two act like you're married for the last, like, twenty years. It won't change anything, man."

Peter rubbed his hand along his face. He wished something will make it all clear.

* * *

Sam was in charge of music as he and Peter were driving to the studio, so obviously, the entire soundtrack of High School Musical 2 was playing at (almost, they're old now) full volume. Sam was singing along to Sharpay's Fabulous, prompting his boyfriend to sing too. Peter was smiling wide at Sam through the rearview mirror. No one across the universe could ever make him feel the way Sam did. No one could ever make him smile this wide or laugh this hard, even if they really tried. It was just that Sam was Sam, and no one could ever top that.

"You're staring, babe. Eyes on the road." Sam teased. Peter nodded and looked away, thanking his parents for not being white. That way, no one could see how badly he was blushing. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just… grateful, I guess? I'm just happy we're here." Peter admitted.

"I'd be grateful too if I was my own boyfriend." Sam shrugged with a playful smile. "I'm joking. I love you, I really do, but you should be grateful for having prince charming as your boyfriend when you're not driving."

"Good point."

Sam smiled triumphantly, squeezing Peter's arm. Peter didn't want the ride to end.

It had to end eventually, as he parked in the Tonight Show's studio parking lot. Sam was supposed to do an interview with Jimmy Fallon to promote his second Young Avengers' solo film, the one Peter was directing. It was supposed to be released in a month, which meant Sam had to kick things up a notch. He did about four interviews a week, for some of which Peter joined, but he did most on his own. Honestly, Sam was doing spectacularly. He was carrying the entire franchise on his back, but he did everything so gracefully and effortlessly, so Peter almost forgot how stressful it all was for him. Almost.

"Sammy," He told him before they entered the building. "You'll do great."

"Thanks," Sam smiled brightly at him, and Peter's heart felt as if it had stopped for one moment. God, he loved him.

They sat together in the green room, watching Fallon read the Tonight Show Hashtags to the laughing audience on the small TV screen. A lady with a headset came in, telling Sam he was up next. Sam nodded at her, smiling wide and standing up. "See you later," he told Peter as he followed the lady out.

Seconds later, Jimmy was done introducing Sam to the audience. "Please welcome Sam Ecklund!" He called, and the audience applauded. Sam entered the frame, waving and smiling at everyone. Peter's heart fluttered. He was dating Sam for a total of six years, how could Sam still make him feel as if he was falling in love with him for the first time?

"So Sam, thanks again for being here," Jimmy began. "Your next Wiccan movie, Children's Crusade, is coming out next month."

"Yeah," Sam said. "We've all worked super hard on that one, so I'm excited for you all to see it already."

"If the trailers are anything to judge by, they'll be incredible. Can you tell us any kind of experience you had on set?"

Sam scratched his chin, thinking. "Okay, this is the only information I can give which won't be a spoiler. In the very end of the film, there's a huge fight sequence. Peter, our brilliant director, decided that he wants it all to be like in inception. I won't give more details or I'll have to sleep on the couch. Anyways, so we have this spinning set, and I kept falling over, which was hilarious until I sprained my ankle. Luckily it was the very last take on that scene, so me being a loser didn't ruin anything."

"You mentioned your relationship with Peter Maldonado, the director of the film." Jimmy started again, and Sam nodded. "How was that like? Being directed by your significant other?"

"Weird, but in a good way." Sam admitted. "It's not the first time we've worked together, we did Vandal a while back, and there's no one I can trust more for directing stuff that will actually be good. But in no other project we've done he had to tell me how to do romantic scenes with someone else. There's a scene where I need to kiss someone, and I felt really awkward doing so with my boyfriend behind the camera. He was really supportive, though. He had to tell me to imagine it was him I was kissing, which, awkward, but he was cool. I love him. Like, a lot."

And with that, Peter knew enough was enough.

If he was searching for any kind of sign that it was the right time to finally propose, the feeling in his gut was exactly that. He was smiling uncontrollably, and he knew. Today was the day.

The ride home was silent. Peter was silent because he knew what he wanted to do the second they got home, and Sam was soundly asleep. Peter's heart was beating so hard in his chest he was almost afraid it would burst out. It wasn't fear, what he was experiencing. It was pure excitement. That was the very last day of their relationship as he knew it. He looked at his sleeping boyfriend through his rearview mirror, and he was more confident than he ever was.

* * *

Now that it was real, though, Peter started panicking. Sam was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, which meant that in approximately two minutes shit was about to go down. Peter fumbled with the small ring box nervously, sitting on their bed. Every bit of confidence he had disappeared as if it never was. God, he was terrified.

What if it all went wrong? What if Sam didn't really want it to be long lasting? What if Sam wanted to dump him the next morning?

When he heard the tap water turned off, Peter desperately shoved every petrified thought he had to a dark and hidden corner of his mind. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright. He hid the box under the blanket.

"Pete?" Sam asked worriedly as he entered their bedroom. "Babe, what's up?"

Peter breathed in deeply, and then breathed it all out. He closed his eyes, trying to gather every word he thought about in the last four years to coherent sentences. "Sammy," he began. It will be alright. "You're… you're my best friend, before anything else, so I want your answer to be honest. Even if it's not what I want to hear."

"Okay," Sam said, sitting beside him and grabbing his hand softly. "Talk to me."

"So… Fuck. It's hard. Okay." He breathed. "Do you remember the last day of eighth grade? When I panicked about going to high school and you told me we'd go through anything together, and then you let me choose the movie for movie night even though it was your turn?" Peter asked, and Sam nodded silently. "That was the day I fell in love with you. I just looked at you, and was like, 'that's it. I want to spend the rest of my life doing movie nights with this kid'. And, like, when we broke up, I felt as if a piece of me was gone. As if I had a limb missing. I felt like a ghost of myself for eight years, and nothing helped it. I dated someone else for a while, but it just made me feel lonelier.

But then you came back, Sammy, and I've never been happier. Every moment spent with you is the prettiest, fullest, most amazing moment of my life. And the thing is, I keep feeling as if every day is that day on eighth grade when I fell in love with you. I don't want what we have to ever end, so I'll ask you this." Peter's hand reached out beneath the blanket, and he took out the small box. He opened it with shaky hands, revealing a shiny ring. Sam's breath hitched. "Sam Ecklund, my co-producer, my best friend, my personal lover of string. The love of my life. Will you marry me?"

Sam's expression was enough to make Peter's heart melt. His eyes were shining bright with tears, and his smile was bigger than ever. "Fuck, Pete. Yes. Yes, yes, a hundred times yes. I thought you'd never ask and we'd be this weird old unmarried couple. Fuck. Yes, I'll marry you."

Peter pulled Sam in for a long hug, allowing his tears of relief to roll onto Sam's shoulder. They were a ball of giggling and crying mess, but they couldn't care less. They parted after a while, allowing Peter to slip the ring on Sam's finger.

They kissed, and everything was okay. They were the happiest people alive, and nothing could ever ruin this feeling.

* * *

_You created the group_ "guess what"

_You added_ Dylan Maxwell, Grace Maxwell, _and_ Sam Ecklund _to the group_

**_You:_** Guess what?

**_Sam Ecklund:_** were getting married!!!!!!!!!!!!

**_You:_** Thank you for the support, babe

**_Sam Ecklund:_** yeah yeah im tired come to bed jerk

**_You:_** On my way, Ilu

_You removed_ Dylan Maxwell _from the group_

_You removed_ Grace Maxwell _from the group_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @oiveyzmir!!! ♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> @oiveyzmir on tumblr!!! hmu


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